


Say I'm Your Filthy Little, Filthy Little

by senioritastyles



Series: Everybody Loves Luke [5]
Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Drunk Sex, Fluff, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-25
Updated: 2015-04-25
Packaged: 2018-03-25 15:21:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3815371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/senioritastyles/pseuds/senioritastyles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Luke likes spending time with Calum, and Calum doesn't seem to mind much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Say I'm Your Filthy Little, Filthy Little

**Author's Note:**

> (title is from Tidal Waves by All Time Low ft. Mark Hoppus)

The air in the LA house is stuffy with competition, and Luke knows he’s going to lose. Fifa might be his favorite game to play, but he’s not the best. Calum is better—Luke’s like, actually admitted that on live radio before, so it isn’t exactly surprising that Luke is losing...badly. But still, he’s giving it his all, trying to make a comeback of some sort. From the corner of his eye, he can see Calum getting distracted, staring at Luke instead of the screen in front of them. Okay, so it might be cheating just a little when Luke takes advantage of the situation and steals the ball from Calum, taking it all the way down the virtual field and scoring.

It feels good to yell, “HA!” And it makes Luke laugh a little when the sound makes Calum jump.

The older boy looks at the screen and his face reads disbelief. “Hey woah, woah, woah. I wasn’t even looking! That’s not fair bro.”

Luke leaps at the opportunity to taunt. “Yeah well maybe if you weren’t so busy staring at me you would’ve seen me steal the ball.” Calum’s cheeks flame with embarrassment but they die down quickly, so Luke has to ask, “What were you even looking at? You were staring for like, five minutes.”

“Nothing bro. Just wondering why you’ve got my beanie on again.” Calum offers and its Luke’s turn to be sheepish because that’s true and it’s definitely not the first time.

He’s gotten into the habit of stealing Calum’s beanies, especially the dark bluish one with the little pompom on top. He likes it, is all; it just doesn’t exactly belong to him. Luke decides there’s no sense in arguing over it now, mostly because he’ll end up stealing it again anyway, and there’s also still a game on the TV to be played. So he plays, better than usual because Calum’s still not totally focused. Luke actually ends up winning, and he only wishes there were witnesses, of the Michael and Ashton variety, to see it.

\--

Sunlight hits the lids of Luke’s eyes late the next morning, making them tint red, making them want to squeeze shut. Luke doesn’t want to wake up, but he kind of has to because they’re writing today, or rather Michael and Ashton are, but Luke’s tagging along for an hour or so; so he’s got to get up and get ready, like now. The AC in the house is strong, and Luke’s skin prickles with goosebumps as soon as he throws the covers off of himself. Michael is nowhere to be seen already, which means Luke really needs to hurry up. He scrambles into a shirt and makes it downstairs quickly, finding all three boys in the kitchen. Coffee and burnt toast smells greet his wishes of a good morning, and the first thing Luke does is gloat.

“I beat Calum at Fifa and you both missed it.”

And shock plays the part of pause button, stopping everyone on a dime. Calum is the first to react, pouring a groan into his coffee like milk. “Fuck off bro.”

Ashton, dumping actual milk into his coffee, says, “He beat you?” It’s directed at Calum, but Luke knows he won’t come out and say it.

So the younger boy answers for him, satisfied smile on his face. “Yeah, I did.”

“Did you let him win?” Michael is looking at Luke, something like hesitant pride on his tired face, but the question is once again for Calum.

And once again, Luke answers. “He most certainly did not let me win. I won fair and square.”

Calum looks like he might need the floor to crack open and drag him down and never let him come back up again. Luke thinks it shouldn’t be quite that embarrassing to lose to him in one game, but Calum’s always had a delicate manly ego type thing going on and clearly Luke’s bruised it.

Which is why Calum, practically pleading with him, requests, “Bro, please shut up.”

“Wow, I’m sorry I missed it.” Ashton comments, and Luke gratefully accepts the congratulatory high-five he offers as he leaves the room.

Michael offers a soft bro-punch to the shoulder. “Yeah me too.”

Luke smiles like the sun, all too pleased about his brief victory against the reigning Fifa champ. He gets himself out of his seat, following Ashton out of the room, and he’s not sure why, but he turns at the last second and blows a kiss at Calum. Michael laughs in the background, and Calum’s getting that floor-swallowing look on his face again, so Luke takes that as his cue to leave. 

\--

Ideas and strumming guitars swarm the studio air like bees. Hum. What about a love song? Strum. Let’s write about parties. Laugh. We should do a ballad. Strum. Why not a fast one? Luke’s head is sloshing like a cocktail, words and chords and inspiration mixing, shaken not stirred. He wishes Calum were here, he’s a good writer; good at taking a head long dive into a song, splashing around the best ideas and wading through the bad ones. Luke’s never been quite so clear-headed, but he’s good at follow-the-leader and Calum’s always willing; they used to spend forever just sitting and thinking and playing chords. That’s what Luke wants right now, a calm exchange of ideas over tepid air, swathed in blankets and the scent of his mom’s cooking in the kitchen. So he excuses himself, offers goodbyes and good lucks, and heads back to the house.

\--

Luke feels serene as soon as he opens the front door. Quiet echoes around the house, lulled by the soft sound of experimental strumming. Luke follows the noise, sliding open the back door to find Calum sitting on a pool chair, sun-kissed and still slicked with a bit of sweat—from working out, no doubt. He’s got Michael’s acoustic on his lap, and he’s playing a smooth progression of notes, obviously thinking hard. Luke waits several feet back, not wanting to disrupt the concentration, not willing to derail Calum’s train of thought, because Luke loves the songs Calum writes—he’s sentimental, poetic, creative; it’s good.

And sure enough, a minute later, Calum’s got it. “I wanna little bit of California, with a little bit of London sky.” And wow, okay, that sounds incredible and like a good song already.

Calum turns and smiles at Luke, and Luke’s already smiling back. “Sounds nice.” He says, joining Calum and resting on the chair next to him. But he has to know, “What’s it about?”

“You.” Is Calum’s immediate answer, and makes Luke smile wide, nose-scrunch included, as he squints against the glare of the sun.

“You wrote that about me? Sounded more like it was about a place.” Luke comments, because it did, and it also sounded beautiful and Luke’s heart flitters like a frantic bird against the cage of his ribs; Calum’s writing about him, like...Shakespeare style.

“It is. Kinda. It’s about the places we’ve been together.” Calum explains, and Luke wants to tell him he’s cute, adorable, romantic.

He doesn’t exactly get the chance, because Calum starts playing again, re-singing the lyrics and adding on a little at a time. The song builds like a castle between the two of them, brick after brick of rhymes and harmonies and hums with potential to form words. Luke feels like royalty this way; the patio stuffed full of music and his best friend by his side.

\--

Of course it’s Michael’s idea to get pizza and booze later that night. They’re celebrating the finish of a song, two technically since Calum and Luke wrote one as well, but he doesn’t mention it. They gather hats full of mini clinking plastic alcohol bottles, armed with pizza boxes and soda, and they burst into Calum and Ashton’s room where both boys are sitting on their respective beds. Luke heads for Calum’s bed, the one closest to the window, and Michael settles on Ashton’s. Calum sits up and reaches under his bed, producing four cups and throwing two to Ashton and Michael. He fills the other two with a bit of Sprite and a lot of alcohol, like headaches in red solo cups, and Luke dishes out slices of pizza for the two of them. He exchanges Calum’s plate for a cup, sipping and cringing before plunging into the pizza. Michael and Ashton move their party for two out of the room and Luke hears them settle outside, probably Ashton’s idea. The pizza disappears faster than the drinks do, but Luke’s just the right amount of buzzed—the kind that makes him wants to snuggle up and sleep.

But his lazy mind still needs to mention something, reopen day old wounds. “M’still proud of myself for beating you at Fifa.” 

“Brag while you can ‘cause s’not gonna happen again.” Calum insists with a roll of his eyes, drinking down another gulp.

“It could.”

“No it couldn’t.”

Luke pauses for effect, to make Calum think he’s won. “It could.”

“No, it couldn’t.” Calum shoots him down one last time.

Luke pouts but Calum doesn’t seem to notice. “You’re mean.”

But Calum protests, “I’m not mean, m’just right.” And he puts his arm around Luke’s shoulders.

Nodding, Luke takes a second to admire Calum. He’s sitting low against the headboard, eyes in line with Calum’s sharp jaw, and he notices that Calum’s skin is soft and warm and that his hair is messy and begging to be touched and that he smells like rain even though it’s been sunny all day and that his lips are plump and parted just a bit and so, so pink. Luke decides he wants to taste them, see if they’re flavored like the storm brewing in Calum’s chestnut eyes.

“Wanna kiss you. Can I?” It’s an easy sentence, rolls off Luke’s tongue like candy, hits the air and it sounds too sweet and too hopeful, but Calum looks mostly unfazed.

The older boy takes a final sip from his cup and sets it down. “Sure.”

Accompanied by a shrug, the word smacks Luke in the face and all he’s got is, “Okay.” Before he just does it.

Luke puts his hand on Calum’s cheek, undulating his body upward while he turns Calum’s face towards him. The first touch of lips is simpler than Luke expected, it relaxes him, feels natural. Tongues drip like honey, tasting like whiskey as they connect, and the alcohol still ebbs at the shore of Luke’s consciousness, making him tired and lazy, but he doesn’t want to sleep...not yet. He wants more of Calum first, and apparently Calum agrees because he starts moving closer and grabbing at Luke’s hair to hold him where he wants him, kisses him with more vigor, taking control and Luke willingly gives it to him—let’s Calum claim him.

They separate and Calum leans his forehead on Luke’s, and Luke is too lazy to open his eyes and look, but he can feel Calum’s carbonated breath hitting his lips when he admits, “Want you.”

Luke tries to smile, but only half of his mouth agrees. “Have me.” 

He means it too, more than anything. He’d give Calum whatever he wants right now, but worry tinges the small space between their faces, slices through the permission Luke gives like lightning. Luke looks at Calum finally, and the older boy’s eyes look like trees at twilight, caught in a blizzard, swaying with uncertainty and disbelief.

Luke puts a hand back on Calum’s warm cheek, reassurance. “Have me, Cal. Please.”

Calum’s concern splinters, like Luke took an ax to it and used the remains for firewood that sears the word, “Okay.” Into the smoky air.

More kissing ensues, deep kissing, the kind that steals breath and demands a chase because Calum’s playing with him; Luke allows himself to be played with and he can feel Calum perk up down under in response. He wants to feel Calum’s skin, more of it that he’s got now, so he blindly seeks out the bottom of the older boy’s shirt and pulls it up, palms pushing against the exposing torso the whole time. It takes a minute for Luke’s lazy arms to get the shirt up, and he’s reluctant to let Calum’s mouth go but he’s okay again once the shirt comes totally off. Time seems endless as Luke explores the strong terrain of Calum’s upper arms, and Luke squeezes when Calum flexes because it feels nice and Luke’s stomach flips at the possibilities of what Calum could do to him with all that strength.

Luke turns his attention to Calum’s chest, a part of the older boy he’s always loved, and he drags his hand down the expanse of it until he gets to the button of black jeans. He pops, cupping Calum’s ass to hoist him up onto his knees and tugging the zipper down. The material is pulled off as far as Luke can get it and then Calum takes over, and Luke busies himself by sinking his teeth into the column of Calum’s long neck. Hands collide with Luke’s chest and shove him back a bit, his mouth breaking away.

“Get your jeans off.” Calum commands, and it makes Luke bite at his piercing.

Lethargy forces his hands into slow motion, fumbling fingers undoing his own jeans and pulling them down. Calum’s deft hands slap Luke’s away after a moment, and Luke is jerked further down the mattress by the force Calum uses to tear Luke’s jeans clean off his legs in a matter of seconds. 

Luke’s jaw drops and he feels much to warm. “That was hot.”

“Thanks.” Calum acknowledges, throwing Luke’s arms up and peeling his shirt off.

Hope clouds Luke’s eyes as he watches Calum, beautiful and powerful above him, slinking down like a cat to claim Luke’s mouth again. Luke is so caught up in the soft-serve smoothness of tangling tongues that he’s surprised when a hand grabs at his clothed dick. He sends a gasp into Calum’s mouth like a letter, and message received because Calum keeps rubbing over Luke until the younger boy is beyond hard and he’s whimpering and his arms want so badly to grab hold of something but they’re weighed down by the buzz still tickling Luke’s brain.

“Get these off.” Calum requests, whispering into Luke’s swollen lips and pulling at Luke’s boxers.

Except they’re Calum’s boxers actually, the toucan ones, the ones Luke has sort of taken hostage. But he nods anyway and slides them off, demanding, “You too.”

Luke palms at his own dick, watching Calum stand up and play around with himself, staring into his own boxers and teasing Luke with just a peek at Calum’s manhood. It makes Luke’s head roll back and he wants to see so badly, and luckily Calum removes the offending article soon after. The older boy is back on the bed in no time, gripping Luke’s chin firmly and kissing Luke like he wants to make it known that Luke is owned.

“On your stomach.” Calum commands, and Luke hurries to obey, flipping over fast.

Luke keeps his arms bent next to his face, legs spread to accommodate the size of Calum between them. Calum’s leaning over his back now, fingers wrapped around Luke’s wrist and pressing lightly, mouth pressing kisses from Luke’s neck down his spine, stopping just before the base. Luke feels relaxed, drowsy, blissed out as Calum sits up and his hands follow the wet trail down Luke’s back and keep going, pushing his supple cheeks apart and letting the cold air hit a delicate spot. Calum’s thumb strokes lightly over Luke and it rocks his body into a shiver.

Luke can’t take this teasing anymore. “Give it to me Cal, please. Want it.”

“You think you can take it?” Calum wonders, eyes burning into Luke’s face.

Luke thinks for a minute, weighing the options, because while he’s comfortable and pliant Calum is still big and it might hurt pretty badly; at the end of the day, Luke doesn’t want to wait any longer. “Yeah, s’fine. Please.”

Calum pauses for another second, and it feels much too long to Luke and he’s just about to squirm and beg when Calum says, “Okay.”

Luke hears Calum spit and the slick sound of skin of skin greets his ears, and the head of Calum’s dick meets his ass. The older boy pushes in at a snail’s pace, going slow even though Luke’s easy for it, inviting Calum in, body sinking into the bed and opening up perfectly. Their hips connect and Luke’s breathing speeds up just a fraction because he feels good already and maybe it’s the alcohol talking but he just can’t wait to actually get fucked. 

“Move Cal.” He pleads, shuffling back and tilting his hips up.

Calum starts grinding slow, barely pulling out before pushing back in, and Luke’s hands start twitching in pleasure so he fists the sheets tightly, and Bruno Mars drifts in through the open window, singing about not doing anything. Luke’s eyes squeeze shut and his brow creases and he whimpers lowly into the pillow as Calum starts pulling out farther and pushing in harder. 

Luke feels the bed by his sides dip and the angle changes as Calum leans over and drives in deeper and says, “Open your eyes, Lucas. Look at me. Watch me fuck you.”

And damn if that isn’t the hottest sentence to ever hit Luke’s skin, so he blinks them open so Calum can see what he wants—the sky living in perfect circles, roaring with a hurricane of pleasure and innocence wrapped in a white bow. Calum looks unreal like this, mouth dropped open and smiling slightly, muscles clenching and rolling and sweat slicked each time he fucks into Luke, eyes drooped low but alight with excitement—copper under a flash of lightning. Luke grins sleepily at him and he really wants to hold his hand, and of its own accord his hand twitches. Calum notices and laces their fingers together, leaning over Luke further and nudging his mouth onto Luke’s knuckles. An even bigger angle change gets Calum as deep as he can be, and he’s rubbing that spot inside Luke that makes his eyes close again and it feels so good that it’s tingling all over his body and his stomach heats up with the desire to come.

“Please Cal, make me come. Wanna come so bad.” He’s begging and he knows it, and he’s about to start begging even more when Calum gets up and pulls entirely out of Luke. “Caaalllll.” He whines, trying to wriggling back onto Calum’s dick. “Come back.”

“Be patient Lucas.” Calum laughs, wrapping an arm around Luke’s waist and pulling him up to place a kiss on his shoulder.

Luke feels Calum line back up and sink back in, using his grip on Luke to draw him back onto him. Luke’s arms are too pleasure-lazy and tired to keep his upper body afloat, so his upper body flops onto the mattress while Calum’s firm grip keeps his lower body up, even off the bed, and okay Luke’s getting fucked mid-air by his best friend and it feels incredible. Luke is panting and Calum is fucking him so hard and fast that Luke’s body can’t catch on quick enough, he’s lost adrift in a sea of euphoria and he can’t do anything but take it, let Calum use him. Luke feels slutty, having half-drunk sex in someone else’s bed. The thought alone drives him nuts and it only takes another second before Luke’s whole body goes taut and his legs suffocate Calum’s hips so hard that Calum stops moving the whole time Luke is coming.

Luke shudders his last wave of pleasure out and finally calms down enough to let Calum move again. He’s even sleepier now, even looser, drooping on the bed, nearly half asleep as Calum keeps fucking him, now literally using him to get himself off. Calum stills entirely a moment later, spilling his load inside Luke roughly and the younger boy can feel every muscle of Calum’s pressed into his backside. It makes Luke’s breathing speed back up just a fraction, and Calum eases out of him and flops tiredly next to Luke. Calum lets out a tiny laugh and he flips onto his back, pushing his fist into Luke’s shoulder to get him to open his eyes. Luke complies and smiles, laughing because of course Calum would fist bump at a time like this—Luke does it happily.

“Post sex fist bumps.” He muses, grinning sluggishly.

Calum spreads his arms, an open invitation meant just for Luke’s snuggles, and he notes, “It should be a thing, bro. Fist bumps for everyone.”

Luke mulls it over and decides who better than the two of them. “We can make it a thing.”

Calum laughs quietly and it ruffles Luke’s hair a bit, as he grabs the blankets and shields them both from the cold air in the room. Luke isn’t surprised when Calum turns over and molds himself into Luke’s little spoon, because Calum loves being cuddled. 

Luke kisses Calum’s shoulder just as the older boy says, “Cake is real.”

Luke smiles calmly and admits, “Cake has always been real, Cal.” Because it’s true; Luke’s always loved Calum and Luke gets the feeling Calum has always loved him.

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like sometimes I get really carried away with descriptions and details....but part of me feels like that's the way Luke's mind works and the way his personality is, like he's just really deep and observant and I feel like he would always look for the most vivid way to describe something. But that's probably just me! Anyway, here's the Cake one from Luke's POV! I hope it satisfies and leaves a comment below to tell me what you think!  
> tumblr: senioritastyles.tumblr.com or hemmotext.tumblr.com


End file.
